


Are You Dating Your Assistant?

by autumnalequinox



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:21:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25289731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autumnalequinox/pseuds/autumnalequinox
Summary: I did it again..."it" being wrote a fic where Donna is promoted in an early season. Not sure where this is going yet, but I hope you enjoy!
Relationships: Josh Lyman/Donna Moss
Comments: 17
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

**Today: Josh**

The First Lady is in my office this morning, which is usually a sign from the gods that my day is not going to go how I thought it would go.

“I want you to talk to Amy Gardner,” she ends up telling me – something about language in a treaty.

 _Of course you do_ , I think.

On my way out the door, I stop by my assistant’s desk.

“Please,” I say, not bothering to hide the exasperation in my voice, “give me a heads up when a member of the First Family is in my office.”

Amy’s office walls are covered in portraits of muscled women who look like they want to kill me. Amy also looks like she wants to kill me, but that’s not new. After law school, we had a brief fling that didn’t end well when I took a job on the Hill and she went to New York. Even if we hadn’t literally gone our separate ways, there was something about Amy that was just incompatible with something about me.

Probably the same something: we are both relentlessly competitive assholes when it comes to our jobs.

Despite this, the meeting is quick and alright. I want to talk to a few more people before I commit us to removing the word “forced” from the treaty. Then, right when I am about to leave, she asks me in that classic, emotionless Amy way of hers, “Are you dating your assistant?”

One hand on the door handle, I turn back to face her.

“My assistant is a 23-year-old named Mike. A little young for me.”

“Careful, J,” I hear her say as the door clicks behind me.

**One Month Earlier: C.J.**

“We need to replace Ken,” Carol says. “We’ve been putting it off for a while.”

I groan and sling my feet off of my desk, where they were propped in a faux show of relaxation.

“The reason we’ve been putting it off is—“

“Is because you hate interviewing and rejecting people,” she says matter-of-factly. I hate it when she finishes my sentences. I pretend to think it over.

“Okay,” I say. “I choose you. You start Monday.” I busy myself ordering papers around on my desk.

“C.J., we’ve been over this.”

We have. I want nothing more than to promote Carol to Press Aide. She’s extremely competent and already has a rapport with the press corps. Unfortunately, the job does come with Saturdays and some on-camera stuff, both of which are deal breakers for Carol.

I wish there was someone _like_ Carol. Someone dedicated, smart, and charming like her. A woman would be great – I’m all about gender equity in this joint. Plus, I’d prefer to hire someone from within. Less paperwork.

It hits me like a ton of bricks: Donna!

I glance at the clock, and I see I’ve got plenty of time. I’m off, through the bullpen and to her desk.

“He’s got Congressman Styles right now,” Donna says, hardly looking up from her computer.

“All the better. Take a walk with me, kid.”

She takes a moment to save whatever she’s working on, then joins me for a stroll through the corridors.

By the time we make it back to her desk, I’ve conducted as formal an interview as I care to and filled her in on some specs: some very informal briefings on Saturdays, official liaison with a few outlets, and coordination with the spokespeople at Energy and Commerce.

As she sits back down at her desk, Josh administers his own kiss of death.

“DONNA!!!!” he yells at the top of his lungs.

“You’ll have more responsibility and you get to take all of the credit,” I say to her quietly. “Let me know by tomorrow.” I coolly walk off, headed not to my own office but to Toby’s, because I’m pretty sure he’s supposed to approve someone before I give them a job offer.

**Today: Donna**

From my new desk, I can still see my old desk and the door to Josh’s office, which means today I might be in for a show. This morning, sweet, innocent Mike let Mrs. Bartlet into Josh’s office when Josh wasn’t there. Then, Josh had to abruptly leave, presumably to do the First Lady’s bidding. It’s highly likely Josh is going to shame mike when he gets back – loudly and publicly.

Instead, when he returns, he heads straight to my desk.

Josh was shockingly supportive of my promotion to C.J.’s office. The first week, I could tell he was trying to give me some space, but soon we fell into a familiar pattern of lunches, walking meetings, and bickering.

It started on the first Saturday I had to come in. It was time for the part of the new job I was most nervous about: making a statement to the press. It was a routine update on the President’s personal schedule, and I wouldn’t be taking any questions. It wasn’t even in the press room, but outside of C.J.’s office.

Once I was in front of the weekend crew, though, my nerves evaporated. It was…fun to talk to the press, even about something as mundane as the President visiting a new church in Virginia. When I was done, the Press fizzled out until just one person remained. It was Josh, wearing his usual weekend uniform of jeans and a faded Harvard sweatshirt. I braced for a barb, but none came.

“You did good,” he said instead. “I’m going to grab some noodles. You want anything?”

“I’ll have some pad thai,” I said. And so, after one week of eating lunch at my desk, I went back to my usual haunt, Josh’s office.

At my desk now, I can’t help but smile. He looks grumpy about something, and I like that he still chooses me to process things with.

“I’m proud of your restraint,” I say. “I had my bets on you making Mike cry over the First Lady’s visit.”

“I handled it,” he says gruffly.

“What did she want?” I ask, standing up to face him.

“She wanted me to go talk to Amy Gardner about language in the prostitution treaty.”

Her name on his lips wakes up a monster previously dormant: jealousy. Which my higher self knows is utterly ridiculous. I didn’t even _know_ Josh when he was with Amy, and my crush on my former boss is mostly behind me, I like to think.

He’s talking about the treaty, and then he pauses, waiting for my input. I tell him that leaving the word _forced_ in the treaty could make it seem like we condone consensual prostitution. He looks taken aback for a moment, and I’m reminded of how annoyed I get when he is surprised that I made a good point.

“Do you want some sushi?” he asks.

“Sure. And edamame.”

**Today: Josh**

Donna and I are in my office eating lunch, arguing over how much edamame she has eaten. It’s more than her allotted half. I’m not fully here, though, because I keep thinking about what Amy asked me. Am I dating my assistant? Obviously she meant Donna. Donna, who has been not-my-assistant for just a month, which isn’t very long. Who eats lunch with me every day, in full view of the White House staff, press corps, and visitors. Whose boyfriends I hate. Who has sharper political instincts than most people in the building, but doesn’t use them for evil. I look at Donna now, and I don’t see my assistant who pestered me about Yo-Yo Ma, but one of four people on the planet who probably considers me a friend. Who, I don’t know, _cares_ about me. Who I know makes heads turn when she wears a red dress.

I’m nothing if not a risk taker.

“You won’t believe what Amy asked me today,” I say, drenching my salmon avocado piece in soy sauce.

“You aren’t supposed to use that much sauce. Or put the ginger on top.”

“She asked if you and I are dating.”


	2. Game Over

**Today: Donna**

I know this is crazy, but when he says that, I’m too distracted by how thoroughly he has ruined his piece of sushi to notice it right away.

“Seriously, can you even taste anything other than soy sauce?” I ask.

“Give it a rest. Did you hear what I just said?”

I process. Amy Gardner, his ex-girlfriend and future-Gloria-Steinem, asked him if he and I were dating. My initial suspicions are confirmed, and I need to deflect.

“She could have just asked if you were single. Implying you’re sleeping with a subordinate isn’t very feminist, is it?”

He leans back a bit and says, “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it like?”

“She asked me if I was dating my assistant.” I think about Mike.

“You definitely are not dating your assistant.”

“I know. That’s what I said.”

“So that settles that,” I say.

“Sure. Settled,” he says, but he’s smirking like he knows something I don’t.

Three beats of silence, in which I experience every human emotion. And maybe some non-human ones.

**Later: Sam**

Josh walks by my office. Then again. And again. Josh is pacing outside of my door. Toby and I have started working on some for-sure State of the Union language, and I’m trying to nail this one phrase in the education section. Alas, Josh’s pacing renders my efforts futile.

“Can I help you with something?” I ask, accepting defeat.

“No no no,” he says, pausing in the door frame. “Keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Okay,” I say, and I dive back into my draft. But not for long.

“Don’t you think Donna has a little thing for me?” He’s back in the doorway.

I met Josh in undergrad when we both had internships on the Hill. We spent most of the time putting stamps on letters and answering phones, desperately trying to impress our bosses. We spent the rest of our time out at bars, doing anything to impress women. Josh was always better at this than me, which was and is still baffling. Why anyone would want to sleep with someone who stops showering when the Mets are either in a winning _or_ losing streak is beyond my comprehension.

Anyway, getting women is not Josh’s issue. His problems usually set in when he realizes he actually _likes_ a woman. That it’s Donna this time is frankly a little cute. Still, Donna is my friend too, and I feel a sudden need to protect her from the shitshow that is smitten Josh. 

“I thought just less than a year ago we definitively decided she does not,” I reply.

“No, see, she was trying to get me to go out with Joey because she didn’t want me to know she actually liked me.”

“Did you get that from Seventeen Magazine?”

“No, I got it from Joey. I saw Amy Gardner this morning.” Now he’s pacing inside of my office.

“I think we have a country to run,” I say.

“She thought, or heard maybe, that I’m dating Donna.”

“Oh Josh, come on, everyone in Washington has heard that,” I say with a laugh. He stops pacing.

“What?”

“Come on, the way you two are? You bring her to everything.”

“As my assistant.”

“As your date.”

“You’ve heard about this?”

“Yes.”

“And what do you say?” He sounds incredulous.

“What would you want me to say?” Long pause.

“I don’t know,” he says in an almost-whisper.

“You’re wondering if Donna has a thing for you, but I think you’re asking the wrong question.”

“Okay, I have a country to run,” he says, and he’s out. I reread what I've written, and it's crap. 

**Still Later: C.J.**

“That’s a full lid,” I say, my favorite thing to say. I snap my notes closed and tell Carol I’m not taking any more questions in my office.

Today wasn’t my best, and after announcing the arms sale, I need to get out of this building before any other heroes let me down. Closer to my office, I notice all of my press aides are still here, and some of them look like they are actually working. I clear my throat.

“Press team meeting,” I say. “My office…in thirty seconds.”

They assemble, notepads in hand.

“We are going out. For a social gathering. To celebrate…” I look around for an excuse and land on one. “…Donna joining the team.” She looks flattered. On her way out, I tell her to invite Josh if he wants, because he has pissed me off the least today. In a few weeks from now, I will remember this moment, specifically the look on her face, as the first sign that something was seriously up.

By the time we gather at the bar, a little dive bar with standing tables only, she has pulled herself together, and we get to know each other better. I knew she was from Wisconsin, but I learn tonight that her family is huge, the last guy she dated was a Republican, and that she only just moved into her own place, which has apparently rescued her from her roommate’s murderous cats.

“Those cats were scary,” a new voice says. Josh. I don’t think to myself, _It’s weird you know Donna’s old roommate’s cats._ Instead I think about how my wine glass is empty now and that’s unacceptable. I leave them to reminisce, I think.

**At the Bar: Josh**

“You know, most women would take it as a compliment to be assumed dating me,” I say to Donna. Her cheeks are a little wine-flushed.

“Well, of course my response has to be that I’m not like other women.”

“And I’m not like other men.”

“You’re right about that, Joshua.”

I’ve touched Donna a million times. I’ve brushed her arm, hugged her tightly, left a hand on her lower back semi-intentionally. None of those times are as electric as now, though, when she lays her hand atop my forearm, preventing me from picking up my beer, forcing me to look directly into her eyes.

“I can’t – I won’t – make a big mess with you, Josh. You are too important to me, and I’ve waited too long. Don’t talk to me about this again unless you want to do something about it. Something real.” She kisses me on the cheek, finishes her wine, and walks off, game over. 


End file.
